


Wanderlust

by PainIsBlanc



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Angst, Autumn, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Let childhood characters say fuck, Love Confessions, M/M, Moomins (Mumintroll | Moomins), Moominvalley (Mumintroll | Moomins), Sadness, Snufkin is an emotional trainwreck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23116813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PainIsBlanc/pseuds/PainIsBlanc
Summary: It was the end of August and the days were still warm and filled with sunlight. But the nights carried a hidden chill, something most inhabitant's of Mominvalley barely noticed, but Snufkin was all too aware of. Autumn was on its way and the lust to walk had already begun to grow inside him. But the last couple of years, his wanderlust had been mixed with something else. Something that pleaded for him to stay just a little longer and to turn back to the valley a few days earlier. It had grown stronger over time and this year, he couldn't shake the feeling that autumn came too fast.
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 19
Kudos: 41





	Wanderlust

A soft breeze caused the colorful lanterns to sway from the branches. The movement made thousands of glowing dots dance over the party participants, painting the scene in blue, green and hot pink.

Snufkin sat on the stairs to the porch of the blue, cylinder-shaped house and watched as the Moomin family entertained their guests. Too-Ticky had just left him with another cup of beverage and a meaningful gaze in her deep, kind eyes. Snufkin had brushed it off, pretending he didn't get the message and accepted the steaming drink, even if he knew he should've stopped at least two glasses ago. But tonight was not the night he said no to a bit of numbness and a pause from constant overthinking. The wanderer took a sip from the cup in his hands and smiled gratefully in Too-Ticky's direction. Moominmamma's punch was legendary but Snufkin had a particular fondness for Hemulen's sweet honey wine with blueberries. It could also be served warm, as was the current case, which was something Snufkin desperately needed on this particular evening.

It was the last day of August and the days were still warm and filled with sunlight. But the nights carried a hidden chill, something most inhabitant's of Mominvalley barely noticed, but Snufkin was all too aware of. Autumn was on its way and the lust to walk had already begun to grow inside him. He had noticed it for the first time a week ago. Sleeping outside in a tent with nothing but a fire which inevitably burned out every night, made him especially vulnerable to every change of the weather. A week ago he had woken up and seen his own breath create a small but clear cloud in front of his lips. From that day he had his few belongings packed and ready. It wasn't even a question of when he would leave anymore, but on which day.

But the last couple of years, his wanderlust had been mixed with something else. Something that pleaded for him to stay just a little longer and to turn back to the valley a few days earlier. It had grown stronger over time and this year, he couldn't shake the feeling that autumn came too fast.

Snufkin wasn't an idiot. He knew exactly what was happening to him. Knew exactly what kind of trouble his rotten heart had lured him into during who knew how many years. He had just been too oblivious to see it at first. And when he finally saw it, he couldn't look away. It was always present. In the clear stream outside his tent. In Moominmamma's kitchen. In the forest. In the way the sun shone over the valley and painted it all with a beauty that on some days, was too breathtaking to even begin to comprehend. And to this day, Too-Ticky was the only one he had told about the turmoil and contradicting feelings inside him. The tunes vibrating in his heart, urging him on one hand to stay and on the other to go. She had looked him straight in the eye, called him "ye stupid bastard" and embraced him in a hug, that for a moment, made Snufkin's world feel like it was a rational thing. From that day Snufkin found himself more and more often at the bathhouse for a cup of tea or a glass of sherry with Too-Ticky, contemplating life, love and the wonderful pain of existence.

Snufkin warmed his hands around the cup of warm wine and searched the crowd for the person, involuntarily responsible for the chaos inside him. His brown eyes landed on Moomin dancing lazily with Snorkmaiden and chatting with his parents by a buffet table filled with everything from small fruit pies to grilled chicken wings. Snufkin felt his stomach rumble at the sight of it but actually walking over there and maybe have to talk to Moomin seemed like an impossible task at the moment. Moomin seemed so happy in the company of his family and Snufkin didn't want to ruin their moment. If it was an excuse to not deal with his demons or the actual reason, could be the subject for a debate, though. But the scene before him together with the warm alcohol in his system made him realize things about himself he usually didn't think much about; mostly because if he started thinking, he wouldn't be able to stop until the thoughts had taken him down a spiral that left him awake at night and in need of being alone in the forest by day. There were, after all, more than one reason he slept alone in a tent.

Snufkin couldn't say he knew much about family. Not the kind most people talked about anyway. He understood the basics and he could guess how wonderful it must be to have a home that was _yours._ To have people around you all the time to love and care for you. To love and care for. To feel absolutely safe every day. A certain someone to spend your life with. Maybe kids. But facts remained: Snufkin had never had that and had also never craved it. The Moomin family had been the closest to a home and family, he had ever known. They had taken him in when others saw a drifter or a possible thief and they had given him their love and kindness and, to his own surprise, received his in return.

Snufkin watched them now, the little family laughing and making jokes he couldn't hear. Moominpappa had turned into the father figure he'd never really had and Moominmamma had always showed him love and care, just like she lined everything she did with love and care. In a way, she reminded Snufkin a lot about his own mother but in a way that made him feel more _seen_.

Snufkin let his eyes wander over the rest of the party participants. Sniff was a good friend to count on even though he often complained or rather slept, than contributed to whatever was at task. Snufkin hadn't much over for Snorkmaiden to be honest. He often found her arrogant and vain. He had asked himself many times if it just had to do with jealousy and if he was a stupid little bitch in need of pulling himself together. But his great experience of life and people made him always end up with the same conclusion: he simply didn't like people like her. Her brother was a little better but not much and often too full of himself. But Snufkin still saw them both as caring friends. 

The mumrik heard a surprised shriek which made him and most of the guests turn their heads in the direction of the sound. It seemed like Little My had attempted some kind of sabrage stunt with a bottle of, well, something. This had resulted in a soaked Mymble and a laughing My as her sister scolded her. Snufkin felt a warm smile spread over his lips. He cared a lot for his older sisters, no matter how annoying they could be at times. Little My's immaturity made her seem more like a younger sister but at times she surprised him with deep knowledge and new ways of seeing things. Mymble could be harder to hang out with. She had taken a big part of the responsibility for her many younger siblings and had grown a little distant to them as a result. Snufkin often felt he had to weigh his words carefully when talking to her unless he wanted a lecture of how he should settle down and contribute to society. Still, she wouldn't hesitate to slay any Groke threatening him and he knew she would hold him tight in her arms right now, should he just allow himself to open up to her.

He swept the area with his eyes and suddenly realized that deep down, he knew he would probably die for all of them. But as a response to that realization, his ancient knowledge that attachment was a nuisance bubbled up. It had always been easier to walk. However, the Moomin Valley seemed to be the only place he continued to come back to.

  
But then, there was Moomin. Snufkin downed the rest of his drink and pulled his hat a little deeper down over his face as he looked back at the troll. The boy had saved Snufkin more times than probably any of them knew, both physically and mentally. But he had also become a symbol for something the wanderer wasn't sure he knew how he could have, if ever and even less handle. Snufkin loved Moomin. To deny that wasn't just dumb, it was straight out idiocy. But because of the fact that Snufkin always left, he never had made any move. It wouldn't be nice nor rational to put them both through that kind of stress. His heart ached at the thought and as he rested his eyes on the troll, there was a part of him deeply wishing he could actually promise he would do anything for his best friend. Staying could never be on that list though and the lingering, crawling feeling in Snufkin's guts telling him that no matter what he did he always ended up hurting Moomin, gnawed on impatiently.

But even with his eyes resting on the scene before him, of which he desperately wished he could be a bigger part of, he now felt the unmistakable tugging at his heart. That string around his soul telling him it was _time_. Even though the birds still sang and the flowers still bloomed in all their glory, he had seen the little changes. Lingonberries, although still yellowish and hard to the touch, and hedgehogs moving more slowly than usual. A few changing leaves at the very top of trees, barely visible for those who didn't seek the signs. Autumn came on soft, but steady wings and it was time to move. Snufkin had never before known the kind of love people seemed to throw down their entire lives for, for he was committed to freedom. He needed to be outside. To face wind and rain and hail and sun. To feel the chill breeze on his face as it slowly became warmer as his travels took him further south. But right now, sitting on the porch, he knew that if someone asked him, he would at least seriously consider staying.

Snufkin was known to everyone in the valley to be a calm and collected individual. Philosophical and with a special way of seeing life yes, but with a cool, rarely disturbed or lost due to unexpected events. That's how people knew the wandering mumrik Snufkin. The contradicting thoughts and emotions he now felt went against everything everyone thought they knew about him. The mumrik was miserable and when Mrs. Fillyjonk suddenly passed him with a tray of homemade wine he grabbed a glass without hesitation. The woman looked at him in surprise but smiled gratefully as she continued her stroll, her head a little higher with pride. Everyone knew wine wasn't her strongest side. It often tasted badly and turned out way too strong. She was famous at dinner parties for her pumpkin buns though, but she always insisted on bringing her homemade beverage as well, seemingly unaware of the fact that time and time again she had to carry most of it back home.

As Snufkin raised the glass to his lips he caught Too-Ticky's eyes in the crowd. She looked at the glass in his hand, locked his gaze again with a frown and shook her head. To that Snufkin just grinned, flipped her off and downed half of the glass in one gulp. He almost immediately regretted the action as the drink tried to turn back halfway down his throat. The taste of alcohol was thick and he had to swallow hard to force the liquor down. It didn't take long before a spinning sensation hit him and he finished the rest of the drink before he had time to think it all through. It went better the second time when he still felt nauseous from the first hit. Through the corner of his eyes he saw Too-Ticky excusing herself from the small group she had been talking to and head in his direction. Snufkin simply lit his pipe and leaned back. He usually didn't care when people disagreed on something. He _did_ care a lot about Too-Ticky's opinion though. She had helped him so much even when it only came to listening to his uncharacteristic rants. At the moment though, the anxiety he had tried do drown in alcohol had transformed into simple "why should I give a fuck? It's all hopeless anyway" and for half a heartbeat, he almost stood up and left when she approached him. However, he realized his spinning head would probably not allow him that kind of bitchy behavior.

"So this is how ye're handlin' it?" the woman said and eyed the mumrik with one hand on her hip.

"Looks like that, yes", Snufkin answered and leaned back against the upper step.

"Ye're a dick right now, ye know that, Snuff?" Too-Ticky continued with a raised eyebrow.

"Figured", the mumrik replied stubbornly but Too-Ticky heard a slight uncertainty in his voice and realized he carefully avoided eye contact. _He's ashamed,_ she thought and sat down next to him, trying a softer approach. 

"Ye know who ye remind me of right now? Joxter."

"Screw you..." Snufkin mumbled, leaned forward and breathed smoke into the night.

"He too never dealt with, well, anything important", the woman pressed on softly, matter-of-factly. An exhausted sigh was heard at her side as a response.

"He never _had_ to deal with something like _this_! Mother loves him, no matter what he does", the wanderer said tiredly. He tried to work up some kind of rage or mildly hurtful comment to protect his own heart from Too-Ticky's words, which made a painful amount of sense. He failed though. The woman at his side was way too dear to him.

"And ye think there would be any different with you and Moomin?"

Her words made the wanderer jolt as if he'd been slapped. He opened his mouth as if to protest but when he couldn't find anything to say he instead simply put the pipe between his lips and met Too-Ticky's amused gaze with knitted brows. Snufkin looked away from his friend and softly let the smoke he'd held in his mouth swirl out before him. He watched as the bluish veils danced and vanished up towards the sky. 

"I don't know", he said eventually and studied his pipe intensely. A weak smile spread over his lips. "Well–" he continued– "that's not entirely true. I know he loves me. That part's really obvious. But I don't know in which way. At the most, I think he sees me as a brother. He looks up to me." He turned and looked Too-Ticky deeply in the eyes. "How could I live with myself if I messed that up?"

The woman answered Snufkin's worries by gently placing a hand on his knee.

"Ye need to talk to him. 'Cause this–" she gestured to Snufkin's slumping posture and tired eyes–"it's not healthy. Eventually it will break ye."

"I just don't know how", the mumrik sighed and seemed to shrink into the step he sat on.

"Truth is–" he continued and lowered his voice– "I'm afraid, 'Ticky. I don't want to ruin what we already have."

The blonde studied her friend for a moment. A shadow of worry painted her face for a split second. Then her features softened and she smiled lovingly. She lightly grabbed the wanderer's chin and tilted his face up. For a moment his big, confused eyes caught the lanterns in the trees and Too-Ticky wished with all her heart, she could hug Snufkin and make everything in his life fall in place. But as always, she knew people did best in solving their own problems. When she spoke she did so in a voice Snufkin had no idea how to not listen to.

"Take a chance."

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

**  
** Moomin laughed politely at a joke the police inspector made, one that he didn't quite get. Something about how many niblings it would take to gnaw off a fillyjonk's nose. The joke seemed both racist and rather disturbing but Moomin didn't want to start a discussion at a nice party such as this one. But truth was he only listened to the conversation with one ear. Half of his attention was directed towards Snufkin sitting by himself and looking uncharacteristically miserable. Moomin had learned over the years that Snufkin often sought out solitude and silence, even if he liked to be around social gatherings. Him sitting alone wasn't a bad sign in itself. But something felt different about this picture. Too-Ticky had left him with a concerned look on her usually calm and collected face and the wanderer looked unstable and kind of dizzy in the contours. Frail. Still, his presence stood out at the party like a vibrant piece of forest, a reminder of nature's ever present mystery. Something untamed.

Moomin studied his friend and felt a hopeful, lately not uncommon, flutter in his chest at the same time worry started to grow. The young troll wasn't stupid. Feelings had never been a great mystery to him and above anything, love was one he had been taught since he was a baby. There were many different kinds. Firstly the love between family members. Then the one between friends. Then, there was the romantic one that blew you off your feet and took you completely by surprise, especially when it was directed to someone you thought you would never feel like that for...

Snufkin had always been a hard person to connect deeply with. He had been like that throughout their entire friendship. There had been several occasions when Moomin had felt serious doubt about Snufkin actually liking him. Every spring, the white troll waited impatiently for the familiar sound of the harmonica, slowly finding its way through the valley. If the mumrik was late, Moomin took an unnecessary fishing trip at least once a day down to the creek, to see if he could see something, _anything,_ indicating his best friend was on his way. And every autumn his heart felt like it cried and wanted out, at the same pace Snufkin's footsteps took him further and further away from the blue house.

But Moomin felt conflicted now. He had known for a few years that he felt more for Snufkin than just friendship but with Snufkin, feelings were a complicated subject and Moomin was scared. Maybe not of rejection but of Snufkin disappearing, should he say the wrong words. With Snufkin, everything was fleeting.

Seeing him now though, sitting so lonely with a red glow from the alcohol on his cheeks, Moomin made up his mind. Perhaps it was the cheerful atmosphere and the lights dancing in the soft breeze. Or maybe it was the sudden chill in the air, bringing unwelcome memories of goodbyes. Moomin excused himself, grabbed a plate with a big piece of strawberry pie and whipped cream and walked over to the lonesome wanderer on the porch. **  
  
**

****  
  


***~*~*~*~*~*~***

By the time Moomin reached him, Snufkin sat with a new glass of Fillyjonk's questionable drink. His gaze seemed dazed and far off beneath the brim of his hat.

"Hey Snuff", Moomin said kindly and sat down next to his friend, offering him the plate as he did so. The sudden movement next to Snufkin startled him but he quickly collected himself. He had to pull the hat a bit deeper down over his ears though, as he didn't trust them from going treacherously red from the troll's presence. He accepted the pie but knew he wouldn't eat it. There wasn't room in his system, already drowning in alcohol and chaotic thoughts.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Moomin continued softly and let his gaze rest on the scene before him. The guests had started to move. Little My and Mymble would stay the night at the Moomin house but most of the party participants had a bit of a walk before they would be home and due to the darkness and the intake of alcohol, many of them choose to travel together.

As Moomin moved his focus away from Snufkin, the mumrik was given time to collect himself and secretly glance at his friend. Feather lightly and in faked sobriety, Snufkin said:

"Very much." He then continued praising Moominmamma's cooking and the good idea of throwing a party on this particular day. But he left out the true reason: That he would soon be leaving and this was probably the last time he would be around all of his friends before spring.

Moomin glanced at his friend. There was something foreign in his voice and even though the troll had seen Snufkin drunk before, something seemed different, despite the other's attempts at sounding as his usual self. Their eyes met and for a split second, Moomin saw something move behind the other's chocolate gaze. Before he could stop himself, the words ran over his lips.

"How are you? Really?"

Snufkin stared at his friend for a long time. A ton of thoughts skipped through his mind. Truths. Lies. Sentences too fragile to even utter without them breaking in the soft breeze. Eventually, he decided on the biggest lie of them all.

"I'm fine."

Moomin looked back, locking Snufkin's eyes with his own. The other wasn't known for lying and when he did, it was transparent and clear.

"Are you? Cause it seems like you're pretending."

The wanderer's next breath got caught in his throat and he felt himself drawn to the troll's commanding question. When did they stop talking about everything? Had they ever? Snufkin had always been so sure of himself, of who he was. Now he felt lost and conflicted in all the unspoken words hanging between them. There was a storm building up inside him and he had no idea how to stop it before it would swallow both him and Moomin.

Before the moment of silence turned too awkward, Too-Ticky came up to her friends, moving their attention from the subject at hand and towards her.

"I'm leaving now", she said with a bright smile. "I promised Ninny I would be home before midnight."

Moomin took his attention off of Snufkin and thanked Too-Ticky for her visit and wished her a safe trip home.

"Take care of yourselves now", the woman spoke and for a moment her eyes locked with Snufkin's. The wanderer looked back and what he saw in the other's aquatic gaze was an urge to _dare_. Too-Ticky saluted, put her hands in her pockets and strode off with a soft song on her lips with words none of the two on the porch could comprehend.

A bird cried in the distance and Snufkin tried to locate the source of the sound but saw nothing. Just thickening darkness turning the green nature into altea teal and ashen gray.

"Do you ever feel like it's too late?" the wanderer spoke quietly, seemingly without connection to anything they had just happened.

"What do you mean?" the troll replied. Snufkin shook his head softly with a tired smile.

"Nothing. I'm talking nonsense."

Moomin swallowed and watched the other man. The cogs in his head worked themselves warm. He wanted to say something, anything, to reach Snufkin. To tell him how he felt and ask if there was any part of him which felt at least something similar to the same. But what do you say to someone you've known for a lifetime without ever reaching entirely? Are there ever any correct words? Maybe the smallest, simplest ones, most of the time are just enough.

"Snufkin", Moomin spoke eventually. The tender voice with an underlying crispiness caught Snufkin's attention and he waited patiently for the troll to continue.

"I... I like you."

Snufkin's first impulse was to react with one of his small, reassuring laughters. To tell Moomin they were friends; would be strange if they didn't like each other. Wave it all off as the influence of a good party. But then he saw the depth in Moomin's eyes. The pleading, sincere glow. The way his mouth stretched in an uncertain line and his paws lay nervously clasped in his knee. And then Snufkin understood.

"I like you too." His words came like a shivering whisper, desperately trying to sound steady and sober enough to be rational. But beneath the surface his pulse raged in his veins, urged him to keep going. To keep _telling_. But nothing came out. Just the thick, changed atmosphere between them connecting them without words.

Moomin threw a quick gaze to the few party participants still chatting in the garden. Making up his mind, he rose and held out his paw towards Snufkin.

"Come", he said.

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

September woke Snufkin next morning with a terrible hangover and an anxiety tasting like bile. The body next to him radiated warmth, safety and the wanderer wanted nothing more than to curl up behind it and forget about the reality outside.

Instead he sat up on the edge of Moomin's bed and looked out through the window. The sun was just barely over the horizon and the world lay quiet. It seemed he was the only one awake in the house and for a moment he just sat there, lingered in the silence and tried to collect his mind through the throbbing pain.

It had been soft, like none of them wanted to break anything precious. Small, trying kisses escalating in to deeper ones, searching and wanting and Snufkin had soon found himself pushed against the closed door of Moomin's room, before he broke free and gently led the troll towards the bed.

Snufkin blushed and hid his face in his hands. He had been stupid. Not thinking of the next day, of today. But... He looked down on the sleeping form behind him. _Neither had Moomin._ They were in this together but Snufkin couldn't help himself from taking on the biggest part of the responsibility. Because he was the one who wouldn't be able to uphold this. He was the one who couldn't stay.

The wanderer walked over to the washbasin and poured water into it from a matching jug decorated with red flowers. He washed his face and looked at himself in the mirror over the washstand. A big hickey on the left side of his neck screamed back at him. He traced it with his fingertips and tried to remember when he had received it, when it had all turned so heated, but his mind was blank. Embarrassed he covered the mark with a towel. _What are we, twelve?_

He turned to find his clothes strewn all over the room and methodically started putting them on but he left the shoes, so he wouldn't wake anyone with his steps. Outside he heard the cries of swans flying towards warmer destinations and there was a slight, familiar tingling in his fingers. Shoes in hand, he looked at Moomin, still fast asleep under the duvet.

_I have to go,_ Snufkin thought and something inside him started to ache. He couldn't do this. Couldn't deal with the aftermath. He knew a decent person should've stayed. Had a chat. Eaten breakfast. Get embarrassed at the family's knowing looks but still feel happy about the whole thing. But in many aspects, Snufkin knew he wasn't a decent person. Above all he had no idea how to talk about this and then leave. Keep on leaving. If it had been April or June, there would've been more time. But autumn urged him to move and Snufkin knew his drunken ass had fucked up royally last night.

Maybe the hardest part was that the wanderer knew he _wanted_ to leave. That he loved the breeze in his hair, the freedom beneath his feet. The taste of breakfast from different areas every morning. But he also loved... His eyes stayed on the sleeping troll who had now turned around in his sleep so Snufkin could see his face. And the mumrik knew. He wouldn't be able to hold up on his part of this new level of their relationship. Leaving would crush Moomin and heaven knew it would hurt. But staying and not being able to show the emotions and affection Moomin deserved would destroy them both.

Panic rose in Snufkin's throat and he didn't trust himself from not waking the troll and make things worse, should he stay a second longer. With shoes clutched to his chest and a willpower mostly controlled by the change of season, Snufkin turned his back on his friend and left the room as silent as a shadow.

***~*~*~*~*~*~***

He had just finished picking down his tent when he heard running footsteps and heavy breathing behind him. Snufkin brazed himself and turned to face the panting Moomintroll.

"You're leaving?" Moomin asked with wide, questioning eyes. Snufkin clenched his jaw and finished folding the tent into a neat roll. 

"Yes", the wanderer replied. The abrupt tone surprised the troll and he stepped closer to his friend.

"Now? Weren't you going to tell me?" Moomin asked and tried to catch the other's eyes but Snufkin skillfully avoided it by sitting down on one knee to pour out the last content of his coffeepot into the grass.

"Snufkin?" Moomin pressed on and tapped his friend's shoulder. The other one sighed.

"No", he replied simply and stood up, still not meeting the troll's searching gaze. Moomin stepped forward, his brows drawn together in concern, grabbed the other by the shoulders and forced him to look at him.

"Why?" the troll asked with a soft demand. He could see the panic behind the glassy surface of Snufkin's eyes. It looked like the other was fighting a battle but Moomin had no idea who the foe was. He wanted to help but he couldn't as long as Snufkin gave nothing back.

"I can't. I... I have to go Moomin. You know I do", the wanderer said weakly.

"I know but why like this? You could've woken me up and mamma would've made us breakfast. We could've talked..." Moomin trailed off. He heard the desperation in his own words and he realized maybe he was fighting a battle too; one he was losing.

The wanderer blinked at the troll and pulled away from his touch in frustration. Everything he had already gone through and sorted in his mind came crashing down on Snufkin again. And now he felt something very unusual boil up inside him: anger. He put on the back pack and as he turned away from the troll he said through gritted teeth:

"You don't know what it's like."

The stupid comment and the harsh way it was delivered in, lightened Moomin's own fire and in the next heartbeat he found himself yelling at his best friend.

"I know exactly what it's like! I watch as you leave me every autumn!" He didn't care about the tears now falling freely from his eyes. Didn't care about his family now gathering on the porch of the house, wondering what was going on. He took two fast steps to place himself between Snufkin and the wilderness, threatening to take him away once again.

"You're hibernating most of the time I'm gone. It's not like-" Snufkin was cut short as Moomin let his own emotions take control.

"But I dream of you! And then I have to wait, not knowing if you will ever come back again!" He grabbed the front of Snufkin's shirt. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of his mother taking a step forward to go down to them, but she was stopped by her husband's soft hand on her shoulder. Moomin felt grateful for that.

"This is not how you leave a person..." he sobbed and looked into Snufkin's eyes.

Snufkin felt something move inside his chest and it threatened to crawl up through his throat and break down in wet tears. He wanted to stay. He wanted to go. Either way he lost something. Either way something would be broken. He wanted to caress the troll's cheek, grab his hands and tell him everything would be fine but he knew it wouldn't. So he let his arms hang helplessly at his sides as he locked what he could inside.

"Don't do this..." he whispered shakily.

"Please, don't leave me like this", Moomin countered. And something snapped inside Snufkin. The lock broke and everything ran out. All the ugly and boiled up things he never wanted anyone to see. It flooded him and his best friend stood in its way.

"Stop it!" Snufkin yelled and pushed himself past Moomin. "This–" he continued and motioned widely to the two of them and everything around them– "would never work! I know it and so do you!" He saw a figure moving up by the house. Moominpappa was on his way down to them and Snufkin felt a pang of guilt but pressed it down. He had to make a choice. Now.

"Why?" Moomin spoke. "What exactly has changed?"

"Just... don't", Snufkin said. The chaos inside him clouded his thoughts and he turned his back on his friend again and started walking.

Moomin stayed. He heard steps closing in behind him but he didn't turn around to see who it was. All he had eyes for was Snufkin's back getting further and further away from him. One last desperate thought formed in his mind and he grabbed it and held on to it like a lifeline. More tears threatened to fall but he pushed them down. With icy determination on the edge of fury painting his features and a heart pounding from the conflict, he raised his voice so Snufkin could hear him.

"Tell me! Turn around, look me in the eyes and tell me last night didn't matter to you!"

Snufkin stopped dead in his tracks. Another person maybe would've cried, showed something to let the other person know they meant something. But Snufkin's tears were hidden deep inside him during so many years, he could only feel them burning inside his mind. A painful sting of shame and self hatred. Nothing the world had to see.

Inhaling and holding that breath Snufkin turned to look Moomin straight in the eyes. A second of hesitation ticked by and Snufkin made up his mind. With a clear voice kept steady by the held breath he opened his lips and spoke.

"It didn't matter to me."

The words cut him like a glowing knife but nothing compared to Moomin's eyes as the wanderer turned around and walked towards the forest. Desperate cries stabbed the air behind him and over and over again, he heard his own name being called out until it echoed like a curse in his head; Snufkin. Snufkin. _Snufkin!_

Moomin made an attempt to run after his friend. Stop him. Do whatever it took to make him stay but strong arms caught him from behind and he found himself falling to the ground, embraced by his father's protective arms.

"No, my son. Let him go", the father whispered soothingly. "Let him go." And Moomin allowed himself to be small and helpless. 

**Author's Note:**

> It's official! There will be another chapter!  
> Thank you so much all of you who have read, commented and given me kudos. You're all wonderful!


End file.
